Be Strong & Curvaceous (20 page)

No luck. “Aughhh!” Why did I have to miss it now, of all times? Clutching my cap in frustration, I debated whether to wait at this stop or walk to the next one—at least I’d be doing something to get myself farther downtown. Meanwhile, Mac was probably already getting out of the cab, thinking I was somewhere close to help her if she needed it.

While I stood on the sidewalk, wavering, a sleek vintage car rumbled up to the curb.

Brett Loyola, driving what looked like a healthy version of my Tío Miguel’s 1968 Camaro and looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine, shoved the gear shift into park. He leaned over and rolled the passenger window down.

“Hey, Carly. You okay?”

Any other time I would have been like,
Ooh, he recognized me even in jeans and a ball cap.
Now I just felt a sinking in my stomach. If Brett had spotted me, that meant David could probably recognize me at a glance, too. And our nice little plan would be unusable.

“Sure,” I finally said, leaning down to talk through the window since it was clear he wanted an answer and wasn’t just being polite. “I’m just waiting for the bus.”

“The
bus
?” Had he never heard the word before?

“Some of us don’t have cars here.”
Some of us don’t even have cars
. Surreptitiously, I glanced up the street.
Come on, bus, come on.
Had it been fifteen minutes yet?

“Do you need to go somewhere? I can drop you.”

Suddenly he had my full attention. “You can?”

“Sure. Hop in.” He pushed open the passenger door and I got in. Fell in, more like. Camaros are very low to the ground.

He flipped an illegal U mid-block and headed down the hill. “Where to?”

“Do you know where Piccadilly Photo is in Cow Hollow?”

“Uh, no. Why would you want to go there at nine o’clock at night?”

I thought fast. “Because it’s payday and my boss wants me to pick up my check after he does the reconciliation.”

Silence while he tried to stare at me and watch the traffic at the same time.

Carly, as Gillian would say, you’ve just blown your cover.

Well, guess what. I totally did not care.

Brett shook his head. “Let me get this straight. You work at a photo shop?”

“Yes. Can you go any faster?”

“Not without hitting that guy in front of me.”

As it was, we passed the bus a few seconds later, and the bubble of urgency under my breastbone eased a little.

“But why?”

Focused on counting the blocks, I’d lost the thread. “Why what?”

“Why work? And how? Classes and extracurrics and the rowing team wipe out my schedule. Where do you fit a job in?”

“In the slot where the rowing team goes, I guess. I’m not much on team sports.”

“But . . . a photo shop? What does that buy you? I can see interning someplace you want to work after college or someplace you can buy stuff, but . . . a photo shop?”

He had clearly never had to hit the sidewalks himself and see exactly how little there was out there for the teenage workforce that didn’t involve french fries. “I needed something now.”

“What for?”

I took my gaze off the shop fronts long enough to raise my eyebrows at him.

“Sorry. None of my business. It’s just not every day that you meet a Spencer kid who does everything and holds down a job, too. I figured there had to be something in it for you.”

“A fifteen percent employee discount if I want a digital Nikon or a Sony videocam.” We passed the Cow Hollow Café on the left and I pointed to the next corner. Piccadilly Photo’s neon sign was still lit, which meant Philip was still there, probably cashing out. “Can you drop me there, please?”

“Oh, no. Curb-to-curb service. Only the best for you.”

I gritted my teeth. Since the photo shop was also on our left, it took agonizing seconds for us to go to the next intersection and turn around, then parallel park in front of the shop.

“Thanks, Brett.” I pushed on the handle. “I really appreciate this.”

“Never stand between a woman and her paycheck,” he said cheerfully. “Hey, Carly, before you go . . .”

I had the door open and one foot on the curb. “Yes?”

“Want to go somewhere after?”

“After what?” Come on, come
on
.

“After you get your check. We could catch a movie or something.”

You have to be kidding. If you’d asked me this a month ago, I’d have fallen to my knees, weeping in gratitude. But I’m not that girl anymore.
“I can’t, Brett. I—I have plans. But thanks.”

He gave me a girl-melting smile. “I know, lousy timing and no notice. But think about it. Maybe next weekend, okay?”

By which time he would have forgotten this whole little interlude. “Sure. I have to go. Thanks again.”

Almost with relief, I swung the car’s heavy door shut and dashed toward Piccadilly Photo just as Philip approached the door with his jingly key ring.

“Carly,” he said in surprise. “Didn’t I say good-bye to you earlier?”

“I’m back.” I slipped past him and into the shop. “Philip, I’ve got trouble and I need your help.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A girl in mufti, a Saturday night, and a little derring-do. There’s life in the old boy yet. What can I do for you?”

Take that, David Nelson
, I thought, and had just enough time to sketch out the important details when my cell phone rang.

CALLER ID SAID it was Shani, not Mac. I tried to calm my galloping heartbeat and answered it.

“Where you parlayin’, girl?” she demanded. “You off getting your nails done, or what? You were supposed to stay in the room!”

“I couldn’t stop her. Mac’s down here at the Cow Hollow Café, meeting him, and I’m watching her to make sure nothing bad happens.”

“I knew you guys wouldn’t stay put. Here’s the sitch,” Shani said, calming down and moving on in her practical way now that there was nothing she could do about it. “Lissa and Gillian freaked. But at least Security’s awake now, thanks to the screaming, and the cops are on their way. Whatshername, Curzon’s assistant, basically threw me out of the office.”

“What is wrong with that woman?” I demanded. “Does she
want
to be blown up?”

“She’s been in public administration too long. Anyway, while she was yelling, the name of the restaurant slipped out, but I don’t think she realized it. I’m in a cab right now, headed downtown.”

“Great. Tell the others what we’re doing, but don’t call me back. Mac’s going to call me and hide her phone while she and David talk, so I can listen. Then we’re coming back together.”

“Call us as soon as you’re safe.”

I snapped the phone shut and realized Philip was staring at me with an expression that clearly said, “Can this be real?” By the time I filled in the blanks for him, it had changed to one of those parental looks where you just knew the next words would be, “Go to your room and let me handle this.”

“We’ve already brought the police in,” I said, though there wouldn’t be anyone in Room 317 to interview at the moment. “Shani is going to get the headmistress, Lissa and Gillian are managing Security, and Mac is at this moment meeting with her half brother, trying to talk him out of whatever he’s planning.”

“The girl’s either recklessly brave or a fool.”

Whatever. “The point is, she was supposed to have called me by now so I could listen to them through her phone.”

“That’s very James Bond of you. But she hasn’t called?”

Maybe she couldn’t get cell reception down here. Or maybe he’d surprised her and was already there. “That’s where you come in. I want you to take me to the Cow Hollow Café. Pretend to be my
abuelito
—my grandfather. We’ll get a table close to them so we can hear what they’re saying, and Mac will know she’s got friends with her.”

He leveled his austere gaze at me. “You know you should wait for the police.”

“There isn’t
time
.” As every second ticked by, something we hadn’t planned for or expected could happen to Mac.

“All they need is a bunch of girls galloping about the city, mucking things up.”

“Maybe not, but we’re all we’ve got. Don’t you see? None of the adults would listen before. We had to do the best we could. Now, are you going to come with me?”

“Hold on.” He put a hand on my arm. “You say this boy dropped off his pictures here. He’s going to recognize me. I helped him at the counter.”

“He might recognize me, too. But we have to risk it. We can’t leave Mac in there all alone.”

“It would be foolish to risk him knowing she’s told someone, all the same. I don’t see that you have a choice, unless we settle for loitering on the street.”

It hadn’t been much of a plan from the beginning. James Bond would laugh—so would Gillian, for that matter. But it was all I had.

Lord, I am way out on a limb here, and I really need Your protection and help. Keep us safe. Help Mac convince David he doesn’t have to do this. Give me courage to do what I have to and to recognize Your will when I see it.

Philip looked down at me curiously and I forestalled him. “Don’t ask. I’m praying, okay?” He nodded and would have said something else, but at that moment my cell rang again. I sucked in a breath when I saw the display. “It’s her.”

“Ah.” I don’t know whether he was responding to the first answer or the second one.

I turned up the volume as far as it would go, and in the quiet of the empty shop, I heard a male voice say, “. . . have that table there, by the tree?”

Someone who must have been the waitress said, “The window table is free. Wouldn’t you rather have that?”

“No.” There was a bunch of noise and then something clunked, and over that David said, “. . . want to see pictures of it?”

“No, I don’t,” Mac said impatiently, loud and clear. She must have stashed her phone in a chest pocket. “I want to know that you’re not going to do anything to hurt anybody now that I’ve done what you said.”

“If I’d wanted to hurt anybody, I’d have waited until Monday, when everyone is back from the weekend.”

Two Scottish accents, yet they sounded completely different. I could hardly understand him. Maybe it was because Mac’s enunciation had been ironed smooth in a London school and his was still as rough and scratchy as raw wool.

“So you’re not going to do it, then?”

“Do what, exactly?” He paused. “What is a ‘bear claw’?”

“It’s a pastry.”

“Sounds interesting. Are you always this blunt and snappish?”

“Only to people who threaten to blow up my school.”

Silence fell, and my blood halted in my veins. He’d never said anything about that in his e-mail messages to her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ice clinked in a glass.

“What’s this about blowing up your school? Who told you that?”

“Nobody.”

“What can I get for you?” The waitress’s voice again.

“A decaf Ethiopian blend, please, and some carrot cake,” Mac said smoothly.

“Okay. And for you?”

“A bear claw.”

It sounded so ordinary. At the same time, utterly surreal.

“One carrot cake, one bear claw, two Ethiopians. Cream?”

“No, thank you.”

“Sir?”

“No. Go away.”

“There’s no need to be rude,” Mac said. “She’s just doing her job.”

“I want to know where you got this idea about blowing things up.”

“Well, you said something about Columbine.” Mac’s voice dropped. No wonder. All she needed was for someone to overhear
this
conversation. “What were you going to do? Go in with a rifle under your raincoat?”

He snorted. “Bit dramatic, aren’t you?”

“You should talk.”

“Of course not. I’m not a lunatic.”

I exchanged a glance with Philip, huddled next to me with one ear trained on the little silver phone.
Riiiiiight
.

“So what’s all this about going out in a blaze of glory, then?” Mac wanted to know.

“Oh, that was just to get your attention. I was feeling pretty low that day.”

“Well, I’m feeling pretty annoyed,” she said, her voice pitched low yet crackling with fury. “And used, and half-tempted to ring the police and turn you in.”

“Your own brother, whom you’ve just met? You wouldn’t do that.”

“I want your word that, now that we’ve met, you’ll drop all this ‘blaze of glory’ and ‘my days are numbered’ crap. How low were you feeling when you wrote that?”

“Did I write that?”

“Yes, and I have the hard copy to prove it. And while we’re on the subject, I’d like to know how you got my school address.”

“Easy,” he said, the ice in his water glass making a singing sound. He must be swirling it around and around. “Your posh school’s Web site lists contact names for every department. The convention’s the same for all of them. First initial, last name. I typed it in, and when no mailer demon came back telling me it was wrong, I knew I had it. You might have replied, though. What a rude girl you are.”

“Of course, stalking isn’t rude,” she retorted.

“I never stalked you.” He sounded offended. “I was reaching out to my only sister. It’s not my fault she never bothered to reply.”

“Well, I’m replying now. And you still haven’t given me your word.”

“About what?”

“On the phone, you said if I didn’t come down here and meet you, something would happen to my friends or to the school. Now that I’m here, I want your word you won’t do whatever it was.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not.” She took a breath, then said more quietly, “I kept my side of the bargain. Now I want to know if you’re going to keep yours.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

I caught my breath.
Don’t let him bait you, Mac
.

“If something happens, I’ll know one way or the other, won’t I? So it’s up to you.”

“All right,” he said. “As long as you do what I say, nothing will happen to your friends.”

This didn’t sound very comforting. I exchanged an anxious glance with Philip, whose face had set in long lines as he listened.

“What do you mean?” Mac asked.

“I want you to come with me.”

Ice chinkled as she set her water glass down. “That wasn’t in the deal.”